Why do Asians really get straight A's? - Project Gutenberg Consortia ...

light up the incense— provided to each of us earlier— in order to pay our respects, as is
customary at an Asian funeral. We approach the tall altar table, constructed of solid rosewood
in a dark cherry matte finish, topped with two bowls of fruit and good-luck candy, and a big
picture of Grand Ma in the middle. Right below the altar is an urn, full of burned joss paper
and prayer money, in order to provide Grand Ma with sufficient income in the afterlife. I think
to myself, What could Grand Ma possibly buy in heaven? A BMW? A Big Mac? Cigarettes?
That's what got her in this mess in the first place! Even after death, Asian people can't let go
of their obsession with money.
Thereafter placing the lit incenses in the burner, we move towards the obligatory
donation box, as money is always offered to show respect to the family of the deceased,
supposedly to help defray the costs of the funeral. I say “ supposedly ” because that's the
same thing I've been told about giving cash at Asian weddings—“ to help defray the costs ” ;
the same thing I've been told about giving cash at Asian tea ceremonies—“ to help defray the
costs ” ; the same thing I've been told about giving cash at New Year's—“ to help defray the
costs ” ; the same thing I've been told about giving cash at every, single Asian ceremony—
even for a ceremony that celebrates an Asian baby being alive for just a few months! I hope
you are starting to see the pattern here: for every occasion, there's money to be made. No
one wants to pay for the costs so make someone else pay for it, plus, you'll likely end up
making a profit, which is really the objective anyway, because it's always about the money.
Bo leads us towards the front row, where the seats are completely empty. It's surprising
that my other relatives haven't shown up yet. After sitting for a while, I start to get dizzy from
the spuming smoke, coming from all that burned incense, my contact lenses beginning to dry
up as a result. Jordan hits me on my left arm because I'm sitting too close to her— what love
from my little sister. Everyone else around the room is quiet— too quiet— probably meditating,
waiting for the sermon to begin. All of the sudden, I hear several ladies crying out, wailing as
loud as they can, like it's a competition and the prize is a pot of cash— literally. It's considered
good luck in Asian culture to wail as loud as possible, just in case the deceased has left a
large fortune, all the riches going to the loudest. Fake crying for money; these ladies should
consider a career in Hollywood with their affectation. And the Oscar goes to...
As if this isn't bad enough, all of the lady guests in the room, including those in my
family, are dressed up entirely in designer apparel, carrying brand name hand bags, flaunting
glittering jewelry from head to toe and wearing full facial makeup as if they are about to do a